


date nights

by hanzios



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Chess, Dating, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, just some good times at the bunker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27418390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: In an attempt for normalcy at the bunker, Miller and Jackson have a date night every 30 days. One evening, they decide to play chess in the game room and talk about their past lives on the Ark.
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	date nights

**Author's Note:**

> Fic prompt: Bunker Mackson talking about their childhood on the Ark. I need more headcanons on pre canon life and their families.
> 
> thanks to @FrozenMemories for submitting this prompt! :D i hope you like it.

Since day one, their lives on the bunker have been hectic and glum, filled with fear, worry, and anxiety. Plus, with the frantic schedules of Miller and Jackson’s professions, it would’ve been expected that they didn’t see each other much.

However, that isn’t true. Because despite the chaos in the bunker, the both of them try to manage time for themselves. To be there for each other and to keep each other sane.

Jackson’s favorite day of the month is date night.

(Jackson had scoffed at the idea when Miller proposed it, not because he didn’t like it, but because the thought of a ‘date night’ seemed like something out of the movies they’d watched on the Ark. But Miller had insisted, “We could do something small like sitting in the rec room. Just… we need something to look forward to. Something _normal._ ”

Jackson had agreed. No matter how ludicrous it sounded, the idea of forgetting they were hundred feet underground was tempting. He could also admit that he was greatly endeared at his boyfriend's proposal.)

Date night happens every 30 days. Jackson and Miller try to adjust their schedules so they’re free for that particular night. However, sometimes, they’re needed for an emergency, so they simply move it to the next evening. So far, after four date nights, they’ve never missed.

Usually, they just sit around and talk in the rec room. But for their fourth date night, Jackson tried to be spontaneous and arranged a ‘picnic’ at an empty engine room, with his white bed sheets sprawled on the cold cement and his dinner rations laid out as their snacks. It was a pathetic sight, looking nothing like the ones he’d seen in movies, but Miller had told him it was perfect with utter sincerity.

That had been their best one.

Tonight, they’re in the rec room, the space almost empty save for seven or so people. Miller has been digging through the drawers and cabinets with Jackson behind him when he made a victorious noise.

“What is it?” Jackson asks, craning his neck.

Miller pulls out a wooden chess set from the bottom of the closet, its edges worn, and the grids almost fading. He grins at the doctor. “Niylah said she hid this somewhere in the room. She didn’t wanna share it with the others, which I get.”

“Huh,” Jackson says. “I didn’t know you played.”

Miller walks over to an empty spot on the ground. “What, you thought I was all brawns, no brains?” he asks, no venom in his voice. He sits down, crossing his legs.

“Of course not,” Jackson says, face heating up. He follows Miller, sitting in front of him.

Miller smirks, moving to arrange the board in the space between them. “Dad taught me on the Ark,” he says. He pauses for a while, looking as if he’s in deep thought. Quickly, Miller snaps out of it. “Do you want white or black?”

Jackson says, “White.”

“Interesting.” Miller makes a face, pushing the white pieces to Jackson’s side. “Then again, you’ve always been the one to make the first move.” He shoots a teasing look at his boyfriend, which makes Jackson chuckle. They begin to arrange their wooden armies as they talk.

“It was the end of the world,” Jackson explains, even though he doesn’t need to. They’ve told and retold this story a hundred times. Still, the same butterflies consume his chest. “You were there. I liked you. I thought I’d give it a shot.”

“And look where it got you.” Miller’s brown eyes are soft when he looks at him. It makes Jackson’s chest burst with joy.

Once the chess board is set, Jackson moves his pawn to E4 without hesitation.

“Predictable,” Miller huffs, teasing.

Jackson raises a brow, an amused breath coming out of his mouth.

Before he makes his move, Miller explains, “Like I said, Dad taught me to play. He said if I wanted to be a guard – _which I didn’t_ – I needed to be smart, not just strong. Every time, he said to move the pawn _here_ to open for the queen and the bishop.” Then, he does as he’d explained, both their pawns face-to-face.

They continue to talk as they play.

“He had the right idea,” Jackson says, moving his knight.

Miller makes a noise before saying, “Yeah. Growing up, I was more of a Mama’s boy. So, after Mom died, he tried his best to relate with me. I didn’t like school all that much. _Loved_ chess, though. It was kind of like war for smart people.”

Jackson snorts, attacking and taking Miller’s pawn. “You’ve never talked about your mom before,” he says gently, hoping it doesn’t sound intrusive or insensitive.

Miller’s mouth just smiles, unbothered by the mention of his mother _or_ the loss of his pawn. “She was awesome. Really coddled me, you know? Dad worked a lot, so it was usually just us.” He hovers his hand over the board before letting out his bishop. “When she wasn’t off to work at Go-Sci herself, she’d play with me and help me study.”

There is a wistful expression on Miller’s face as he thinks of his late mother. “She was the only one who could get me to study.”

“That’s a feat in and of itself,” Jackson taunts playfully. He smiles at the look on Miller’s face. “She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“The _best_ , honestly.” He then attacks Jackson, taking his rook. “Looks like I still got it, after all,” he celebrates with mock confidence.

Jackson laughs. “When I said we could play, I didn’t think you’d be _this_ competitive.”

Miller grins mischievously. There is an easy silence before he continues, “Anyway, Mom died when I was fifteen. Cancer. Medical couldn’t do anything.” He gestures to Jackson. “Your move.”

Jackson swallows, turning back to the board. He has a faint recollection of a female brain cancer patient back when he was still an apprentice. He never dealt with her face-to-face, but he often saw her around Medical as Abby directed him towards the more miniscule injuries. Briefly, Jackson wonders if that woman had been Miller’s mom.

He takes a moment before moving another pawn. A filler move.

“Dad still worked a lot after she died, so I became restless being by myself all the time,” Miller continues. “I got so bored I started stealing.”

“Ah. Your origin story,” Jackson says, his tone the right amount of playful. His boyfriend merely chuckles.

“It was little things at first. Pens, condiments from the mess hall, _books I wouldn’t read_ ,” he narrates. “I had a box full of random shit under my bed, just sitting there. I didn’t steal because I needed to; I was just young and dumb and enjoyed the thrill of doing _anything_ to keep my mind off of mom.

“Then I got better. I’d steal clothes from Factory Station, food straight from the gardens of Farm Station. Then I stole a chess board, and when I came home, Dad was there.” Miller, despite talking, still delivers impressive moves during the game. He takes one of Jackson’s pawns as he continues,

“I lied, said a friend gave it to me. I don’t think he believed me, but he let it slide. We played for _hours_ that night. I already knew the basics, but he taught me strategy. He taught me to _think_ before attacking.”

“He must’ve been a good teacher,” Jackson comments, moving a piece.

Miller smiles at that. He jokes, “If he saw _me_ beating a _doctor_ in chess, he’d be so proud.”

“Beating?” Jackson challenges, tone high-pitched. “Don’t get too cocky. The game’s not over yet.” He assumes what is hopefully a serious stare, but Miller only breaks into a smirk.

“You’re sexy when you’re competitive,” he says before moving a rook.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?”

Jackson feels his face go warm at the expression in Miller’s eyes. He could never resist that man’s stare even if he tried. However, Jackson tries his best to shift his focus on his pieces, frowning just for show. “Try harder.”

He hears Miller laugh, but doesn’t see it, returning to the game with newfound determination. They begin to play in comfortable silence, the ambient sounds of the room as background noise. A man had even started to play the piano, albeit sometimes he was a little offkey. Nobody minds.

“How ‘bout you?” Miller asks, arranging his legs, so they were on one side. He leans his weight on the wall beside him. “Tell me about your Mom.”

“I already told you about her. At Becca’s island.”

“Yeah, you told me her name, her work,” Miller says. Jackson is surprised he even remembers. That certain conversation feels like a lifetime ago. “I wanna know _how_ you grew up with her. This is a _date,_ after all.”

Jackson scoffs at the word, but his eyes soften nonetheless. God, he loves this little normalcy they’ve managed to establish.

Almost as much as he loves the man sitting in front of him.

“Mom was the opposite of me,” he begins his story, moving up his knight to take Miller’s pawn. “She was talkative, friendly, funny. She always said I got my personality from my Dad.”

“You’re funny,” Miller interjects.

Jackson squints. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who’s ever called me that.”

“You _are,_ ” Miller chuckles, insistent. “People just don’t get your humor.”

Jackson looks away, unconvinced, but still flattered. “Anyway, most of my memories of her are from her last months, but…” He looks at Miller, smiling. “I remember her reading to me every night. She was a cook, but she was very bright. She read me poetry, books about the Earth, mostly non-fiction.

“There was a time where I could recite William Ernest Henley word for word.”

“Invictus, right?” Miller asks, moving a piece. “I am the captain of my ship, and all that?”

“I am the captain of my _soul,_ ” Jackson corrects, finally moving his queen as if to prove a point.

Miller shrugs. “Same thing.” He stares at the board before moving his knight. “Check.”

Jackson simply attacks the knight with a bishop. “And mate,” he jokes. His boyfriend groans half-heartedly.

“We were lucky with our moms,” Jackson says, deep in thought.

Miller hums in agreement. “That, we were.” Then, he adds, “Mom would’ve loved you.”

Jackson looks at him and smiles. “My Mom would’ve loved you, too.” His heart feels heavy with the weight of the conversation. But he can’t stop himself from saying, “You know, I always envied those couples in movies who got to have dinner nights with both of their parents. I wish we could’ve had that.”

Miller turns to him and notices the sad look in his eyes. He reaches over and places a warm hand over Jackson’s, which was resting on the knee. “Well, we have dinner with Abby most nights. _That_ counts.”

Jackson smiles, taking Miller’s hand and pressing his knuckles into his lips. It makes his heart beat unnaturally – how Miller always seems to know the right words to say to him. “Yeah, it does,” he breathes into his hand.

After what feels like an eternity of just staring at each other, they’re back with their game. Jackson enjoys looking at Miller’s concentrated face, with his eyebrows knit together as he stares at the chess board. They take turns taking each other’s pieces, talking among themselves. It’s a fair game, and both are on equal footing. Jackson thinks David Miller must’ve been a _really_ great teacher.

At one point, Miller pumps his fist in front of him, simultaneously moving his bishop. “That’s _checkmate._ ” When he looks at Jackson, he’s beaming, and Jackson couldn’t help but reciprocate his energy.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Another round?”

“Best of three?” Miller challenges, excitement seeping into his voice.

Jackson nods firmly, a smile on his face. They reset the chess pieces, with Miller having the white ones this time, forgetting the rest of the bunker. It’s comfortable and relaxing, being with Miller like this, not having to think about their responsibilities and what they’ve been through to get here.

He thinks he may never love anyone as much as he loves Miller.

And, only because of the quality of his company, Jackson thinks he prefers _their_ date nights to those he’s seen at the movies.


End file.
